


Heat of the Moment(s)

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, NO ABO ALRIGHT, idk why i wrote this ignore me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: Dean's in a rut. Finn helps.





	Heat of the Moment(s)

Spring is never a fun time for Dean. Sure, it’s not like the winter when the threat of the full moon is hanging over his head, but it has another inconvenience lurking around. 

Heat.

It’s more of a nuisance, an annoyance, than a threat. It tinges everything he does, causes his fangs to grow as they ache to mark someone, causes primal instincts to take over. Combine that with the fact that Finn goes through something similar in the same time period, well...It’s hard to get anything done.

Like now.

Finn’s nuzzling against his neck, breath warm and wet against his pulse. Dean can smell Finn’s arousal, his desperation, his excitement. It stings his over-sensitive nostrils, something sharp and heady and dense. It’s causing saliva to pool under his tongue, his teeth aching to sink into Finn’s neck. He’s achingly hard, and the way Finn’s grinding against his thigh isn’t helping. 

Finn’s purring, low in his throat, something he isn’t aware he’s doing. It happens sometimes, in moments like this, gets so much louder, more frequent, when his heat hits hard. It’s been worse than normal this year, and it’s been difficult to get anything done when he’s around. 

Dean’s talons sink into the flesh of Finn’s hips, and the smaller man arches against him. “Dean, Dean, Dean.” The name leaves his lips like a prayer, like a warning, and the wolf is pawing at his ribcage. “Dean, please. Please, I need you.” His voice is getting airy, higher, his accent growing so thick Dean can practically gnaw on it.

Dean growls, scrapes his fangs across the junction of Finn’s neck and shoulder. He can’t speak, not now, not when the wolf is so close to the surface. He’s certain his eyes aren’t blue anymore, are probably wide and yellow and almost glowing, but he can’t be bothered to care. He lets his fangs sit against Finn’s skin, almost like a promise, like a  _ warning _ .

His talons scrape up Finn’s sides, leaving deep red scratches in their wake. He nudges his forehead against Finn’s, a gesture telling the older man to continue,  _ please continue, never stop begging _ . Finn gets the idea, and the words leaving his mouth fall even faster, get even filthier. The wolf howls in his chest when he hears the words, “ _ I need your knot,” _ and something sparks in his stomach.

Dean lifts Finn off his lap like he weighs nothing. Right now, he doesn’t. Dean’s deep in his rut and there’s so much raw energy and strength flowing through him that Finn feels weightless. He swiftly pins Finn to the mattress, and Finn’s legs spread lewdly. The wolf scratches at Dean’s ribs again.

Finn’s still begging, still pouring filth from his lips, arching his back and lifting his hips in search of some sort of friction. Dean’s barely coherent enough to remove his clothing without tearing it to shreds, barely manages to undo the button of his pants before he ruts his hips against the crease of Finn’s thigh.

He manages to retract the long claws extending from his fingers, though it takes a ridiculous amount of focus and concentration. He takes the lube Finn offers, and he carefully slicks his fingers. Part of him is painfully aware that he could make Finn come undone from just this, spread him open on three fingers and let him ride the digits until he loses it. But he can’t do that, not here, not today, not when he can already feel his knot starting to form, when he can feel the wolf bearing its teeth against his lungs.

He forces himself to slow down, to not rush through prepping Finn. He doesn’t want to hurt him. He can’t hurt him, needs to keep his trust or else this  _ won’t work _ . Finn doesn’t seem to mind, seems perfectly content to roll his hips against Dean’s fingers as he spreads them, hooking them just enough to get an extra stretch.

After what feels like an eternity of having Finn clenching around his fingers, he removes them and wipes them off on the bedspread. He slicks himself up and presses the head of his cock to Finn’s entrance. He takes a deep breath, pushes in so slowly it almost hurts, and he feels it low in his stomach. It takes a painfully long time for him to be flush with Finn, hips pressing into the globes of Finn’s ass, and god does it feel amazing,  _ hot tight not enough too much oh god he’s not gonna last. _

But that’s okay. He doesn’t need to last long. The only thing he needs is for Finn to come first. He stills, takes a deep breath, lets Finn get used to the intrusion. He only moves when Finn digs his nails into his shoulders and starts  _ whining _ , low in his throat, begging Dean to just  _ move, please, please, I need you to move _ . And who is Dean to deny him when he begs so nicely?

He rolls his hips carefully, slowly. Finn snaps his head back, his lips parting in a low moan that feels like it’s been drawn from the center of his gut. Dean keeps his pace slow, long drags of his hips, trying to fight the urge to pound Finn into the mattress until he can’t walk. His resolve doesn’t last for more than a few thrusts, because Finn is grinding back against him and moaning, pleading for him to go faster, harder, deeper.

He picks up the pace and sets a clip that leaves Finn gasping, unable to speak coherently. The short man is clinging to him, purring so loud it blocks out the wolf, and Dean’s fangs feel heavy in his mouth. He digs his teeth in just enough to feel the skin bend, but he doesn’t let it break, not yet.

Finn manages a few sentences, and it goes straight to Dean’s stomach. “Please, mark me. Mark me, oh fuck, I need to feel your teeth. Let me ride your knot.” He breathes, pants, doesn’t even sound like himself at this point. His words end abruptly when Dean sinks his teeth deep into the junction of his neck and shoulder, feels the skin break, blood splashing irregularly onto Dean’s tongue. And then Finn’s coming, three hard spurts that hit his pecs and stomach. 

That’s all it takes, seeing Finn come undone, seeing his blood, feeling him clench as he shudders. Dean’s knot inflates quickly, stretches Finn so fucking wide he can barely move, and then Dean’s coming too. Finn’s cock is twitching against his stomach, trying to get hard again because of how Dean’s knot is pressing against his prostate almost too insistently.

Dean licks the excess blood from Finn’s neck, bends low to lick the spunk off of Finn’s chest. The shorter man shivers, sinking further down onto Dean. He maneuvers them into a more comfortable position so that they’re on their sides instead of in missionary. Finn’s starting to fade in and out of sleep, and every time he wakes, he jerks a little, causing Dean’s knot to tug on his rim in a way that’s agonizing in the best way for both of them.

The whole time they lay there, close to an hour, Dean’s still pumping the demon full of cum. When he’s finally able to pull out, when his knot has deflated enough, it rushes out of Finn like a tidal wave. The demon growls, arches his back, and Dean has to bend down to lick him clean.

Their heats are either the best or the worst thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tonyknees on tumblr! Come bug me!


End file.
